Harry Potter and the Curse of the Clawed Ring
by Mishee
Summary: A girl from a distant past returns during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. However, mysterious new threats leave others wondering whether she really is a friend...or foe.


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all relating characters belong to the great J.K. Rowling. I have no intent of making any profit by using any of the afore mentioned characters in this story. This fic serves as a source of leisure for me and for everyone else, _nothing more_. Suing me would result in nothing but misery for the both of us, and you'd probably lose more money paying for lawyers than from what'd you'd be able to get out of me. Not worth it, if you ask me. ;) 

**Author Notes: **No idea when this fic is supposed to take place; I'm just taking a shot in the dark and saying that the bulk of the fic will take place during Harry's sixth—yes, _sixth_—year at Hogwarts. And, yes, you do need to have read _at least _the first book to get a pretty good idea of who's who in the stories and such. I am _not_ going to re-iterate who is who and who does what in here: J.K. Rowling has already done a great job in doing that in her books. Also, Roane (mentioned later in the fic) is a character that _does_ belong to me: Permission is needed to use her, although I'd probably be so flattered anyway that I'd say yes. :) Comments and such can be directed to me at kibonoko@yahoo.com. Enjoy the story! 

_**Harry Potter and the Curse of the Clawed Ring**  
By: Ki-chan_

_(Prologue) _

She hugged her knees tightly to herself, shivering slightly as a sharply cold draft of wind blew past her, ruffling her already disarrayed hair. Still shaking from the cold, she rested her small head against her knees, pale green eyes blurring. Cold; it was so cold. 

Resisting the urge to cry, she unfolded her legs and dangled them down below. She leaned forward a bit, eyes glancing below where her feet dangled, and found herself staring at her own image. She took in the reflection: her pale face, the limp, red noodles of hair than hung in clumps around her small head, the green eyes that stared back at her sullenly, the pursed lips. She stared at the image below her for a long time before, then swung quickly below and kicked fiercely with her free foot. The sudden action disturbed the reflection, and small ripples quickly made away with the depressing image. Heaving from the exertion, she stood in the middle of the shallow lake, her ankles deep in the water, and shaking. The cold wind now struck her more sharply than ever, and she quickly hugged herself to keep herself warm. 

"What are you doing?" 

Startled, she unfolded her arms and looked up. He stood, leaning forward on the stone bridge, and glancing at her most curiously with those emerald green eyes. His red, orange, and yellow-striped baggy sweater hung around him like a wet, wrinkled towel, and it came down to his knees. His pants were yards too long for him, as well, and he had folded over the ends more than five times before it finally reached to his desired length. However, it too, like the sweater, looked ready to fall off his skinny frame any minute. 

She took in his image the same way she had taken her own, and she glared sullenly at him, annoyed that he had asked. 

"What's it to you?" she snapped, lifting her foot and putting it sloggily back in the water. 

He blinked at her, seemingly unnerved by her rude remark, but didn't stop staring at her. 

"Why are you in the lake?" he asked. 

"I wanted to take a bath," she remarked sarcastically as she was getting out of the water. Her feet made slushy noises as she entered land again, but she ignored the wetness. The boy seemed to have found her answer funny because he cracked an honest smile, green eyes suddenly twinkling in amusement. 

"Well…aren't you cold?" 

It was a silly question. It was late December, and the sky was listlessly covered with gray clouds that threatened snow any minute. The temperature had dropped to about 50 degrees that day, and the wind had been surprisingly strong. The girl threw him a raised look. 

"What do you think?". 

The boy blinked at her again, then pushed his falling glasses up to his eyes. 

"Yes," he finally concluded, glancing up and down at her figure. "You're shivering." 

She stared at him for a second, not expecting to have received a response. She looked down at her wet ankles, the dirty shoes that covered her too small feet. 

"So?" 

"So." The boy had stopped leaning against the bridge and was now staring at her again with those eyes. "Aren't you going to go home?" 

His words struck her hard, and she couldn't find herself looking at him. Beside her, her small fists clenched tightly. 

"No," she finally hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm going to stay here. Forever." 

There was a brief silence. The boy hadn't seemed to notice the lack of sarcasm in her response this time, and he cracked a wider smile, again amused by her answer. 

"Okay," he consented, shrugging. He jammed his small hands in a pocket that adorned his heavy sweater. "Um…" 

"What?" the girl had recovered in amazing time, and she was again glaring at him. The boy shifted his feet, suddenly embarrassed. 

"Who…who are you doing the project with?" 

Another surprising question. The girl found herself once again staring at him, her chest beginning to hurt. 

"Nobody." 

"But Mrs. Smithers told us we had to work in partne—" 

"I'm working with _nobody_," she snapped irritably. 

He stared at her, hands in pocket, eyes lighting up in hope. 

"I'm not working with nobody, either," he said, somewhat happily, looking at her. She remained silent, eyes meeting his. The pain grew in her chest and moved up to her head. 

"So," he continued, eyes blinking beseechingly at her. "Do you want to be partners?" 

The headache became worse. She closed her eyes briefly against the pain, suddenly feeling sick. 

_A school project, to trace your family tree. To work with another partner, to compare families, and then make a report of what we had each learned, to present to class in two weeks…_ It was what the teacher had said, what she was supposed to do. Only…she didn't…she couldn't. 

"I don't remember," she whispered, eyes still closed against the pain. 

"What?" the boy cocked his head and looked curiously at the girl again. 

_I don't…I…I…_ the pain was hot now, pounding against her head, her chest. Closing her eyes didn't seem to help anymore, and she fell to her knees, clutching her arms again. _But…how? If I don't remember…can't think of…partners, we need partners. Yes…Yes!_

"Yes!" she found herself saying, and the pain subsided, as quickly as it had come. "Yes," she repeated slowly. "Yes." 

The boy was now looking puzzled, startled. He stared at the girl, a flicker of some concern coming over his eyes. 

"Are you…okay?" he asked, a little nervously. 

She opened her eyes, and turned to look at him neutrally. 

"Yes," she said again. He licked his cold lips, pushing up his glasses again. Then, the smile once again came over his face and he beamed at her. 

"Okay!" he agreed, still beaming. "We're partners." 

The two stared at each other again, the boy smiling heavily, the girl blinking up at him neutrally. 

Finally, the boy cut through the silence. "Where should we meet? Your house?" 

Again, he had mentioned the house. She felt herself shaking her head. 

"N-no," she said softly. Another silence, and the girl vaguely wondered why he wasn't offering his house for them to work in. 

"Okay," the boy said carefully, thinking quickly. "Um…how about…the library?" 

She looked at him, then nodded sullenly. 

"The library." 

"It's big," he added. "And it's quiet. And it's—" 

"Fine," she said languidly, beginning to feel her head ache again. "I'll…I'll see you there, I guess…" 

"Tomorrow?" he questioned. 

"Yes." 

"Um…okay. Sure." The boy now was beginning to look confused, but his joy upon having a partner was still apparent in his face. "I'll meet you there, after lunch." 

She was slowly getting to her feet, and she nodded as she stood. He watched her for a moment, then gestured slightly. 

"I'll see you, then," he finished off, rather lamely, hands still jammed in pockets. "So…goodbye." 

She didn't reply and stared at him as he waited for a response. When he didn't receive any, he turned and walked slowly down the bridge, breath coming out in white clouds. She continued to watch him as his figure became smaller and smaller in the distance, until he finally disappeared behind a tree, a tiny brown speck in the gray. It had grown colder now, the wind stronger. She stood, rooted to her place, still watching, until finally she heard it. A shadow, covering her own completely, and then a low moan, reminiscent of the howling cry of the wind that now screamed all around her. A hand, colder than death, came to rest on her small shoulder, but she didn't turn around, for she already knew who it was. 

"Come." The voice was deep, cold, and strangely comforting. "Let's go home." 

*** * * * * * * * **

She arrived the following afternoon, just as she had agreed to do. The library, just a few blocks away from the park, was an old brick building, very tall and very large. She stood before the steps looking up in awe, and gazing sharply at the pigeons that perched on the roof's edge, until she felt a light tap on the shoulder. She jumped and turned around to face her adversary. 

He stood, satchel on shoulder, grinning at her in his usual way. His glasses were slipping down his nose, and he quickly pushed them up. 

"Hi," he greeted. She stared at him, and he gestured up the steps. 

"Shouldn't we be going in?" 

"Yeah," she muttered finally after a brief silence, her breath escaping from her in a white cloud. The boy glanced at her up and down, noting something, but not saying anything. 

"What?" she finally asked sharply, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. He shrugged. 

"Nothing. It's just…aren't you cold?" 

There it was: the same question as yesterday. For the first time that day, she realized that she was wearing the same clothing she had been wearing when he met her by the bridge. She pursed her lips, peering suspiciously at him, and didn't say a word. He shrugged again at her silent response, smiled uncertainly, and started up the steps. She followed him only after a moment's hesitance, but stopped after he had opened the door. A burst of hot air greeted her as the door opened, and, startled, she took a step back. The boy, however, stared at her through the glass surface, and opened the door once again. 

"Come on. It's nothing. It's nice inside." He once again gazed at her clothing, and she realized with a jolt that he thought she would feel better if she were out from the cold and inside the nicely heated library. She bit her lip, staring morosely at him, but he left the door open. Finally, she complied, stepping hesitantly inside. 

The building _was_ warm, quite different from how it was outside. Dull red carpet adorned the entrance, and they followed it until they had reached the main room. Forgetting to follow the boy, who had immediately made his way toward the back section of the building, she paused and stared around her in awe, a rare excitement building inside of her. So many books of so many different shapes and sizes filled the bookshelves, which stood about four times as high as she was. Librarians stood precariously on ladders leaned against the tall bookshelves, returning books or trying to find specific ones to give to waiting customers below. Except for the occasional murmur and rustling of papers, there was no sound to be heard. 

"My dear, can I help you?" 

The girl whirled around. A pleasant, middle-aged lady glanced at her shortly behind spectacles, smiling. The girl stared, not sure what to say. A hand suddenly gripped her shoulder, startling her yet again. It was the boy. 

"No, we're fine, thank you," she heard him say. The lady murmured something, and the boy smiled sheepishly before turning back toward the back of the library, pulling her with him in his grasp. 

"Honestly…" He shook his head, glasses once again falling further down the bridge of his nose. "It's like you've never been to a library before. _Have_ you ever gone here?" 

She was still staring at the books overhead. She shook her head. 

"No." 

Her response quieted the boy, who continued to lead her through hallways of bookshelves and finally to a lone table. He sat and waited patiently for her to do the same. 

"I already started mine," he said softly, pushing a piece of paper toward her. She took the paper and stared at it for a few minutes. 

"It's…it's kind of small," he continued, reddening as she continued to stare and not say anything. 

Finally, she put the paper down, still staring at it. 

"Did…did you start…yours?" he asked, still embarrassed. 

The girl glanced at him, then shook her head. "I don't remember." 

"You don't remember your family?" 

"Yes." She tucked her feet in and rested her chin gently, glancing placidly at her partner. He returned her stare. 

"How can you not remember your family? I mean, everyone's got a—" He stopped suddenly, turning even redder. 

"I mean—" he began again quickly, "—even…even if not everyone has parents, you probably still have aunts or uncles…" He waited hopefully. The girl stared back at him, thoughtfully. 

"…or a grandfather, or grandmother?" he continued. He was met by the same stare. 

"Cousins? Older sister? Older brother? Great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother?" She continued to stare at him, but the look in her eyes was not hard and cold as they had been earlier, but rather amused. He sighed, now staring at his own small family tree. 

"Are you adopted?" he finally asked in a quiet voice. "Do you have a guardian?" 

His last word elicited a sudden movement from the girl. She stared at him with wild, frantic concern. Her eyes had suddenly become angry, and they flashed him with a cold glare. 

"No! _No!_" she said loudly, vehemently. "I told you: I don't _remember! _I don't—" The pain came again, swiftly and deadly. She gasped, and, ignoring the peculiar and angry stares that were being directed to her by the librarians, she fled, hugging her chest. 

"No, wait!" she heard the boy call, but she ignored him, the pain in her chest growing. She burst through the glass doors, panting, the coldness coming back to her now that she was outside. 

_How did he know? You told him, didn't you? You told him… _

"N-no…I didn't!" She ran down the steps furiously and stepped into the streets hurriedly, ignoring the angry honks of the cars that blew past her. "I didn't tell him! I couldn't remember!" 

_You told him…you told him…I told you not to— _

"I _know_!" She had reached the park without even realizing it. Panting, face as white as a ghost's, she collapsed near the riverbank, hugging her chest and rocking back and forth. She was crying, now. Her tears ran in small rivulets down her pallid cheeks, and she hid her face in her hands, trying to stifle the sobs. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't tell—I promise I didn't." The pain grew steadily worse, and she began to cry even more. "Please…please don't hurt me. Don't hurt me…" 

A shadow fell over her, and she swallowed hard, hiding her face even further in her arms, beginning to shiver violently. _It's him…_He had come. He was going to punish her, now; going to take her away. But the shadow didn't move, and after a rather uncomfortable pause, she felt the cottony material of a coat drape over her, warming her suddenly. 

"Are you all right?" 

She looked up, not bothering to wipe away her tears, green eyes wide with absolute fear. He stood before her, young face draped in concern, bright emerald eyes gazing at her worriedly behind his owlish glasses. He knelt before her, reaching to fix the coat over her shoulders, but she immediately reacted and slapped his hand fiercely away. 

"Don't!" she commanded, eyes filling again. "Why do you always have to follow me? Why do you always have to ask stupid questions? Why—" She began to choke, voice strangled from her own tears. The boy hadn't moved, and looked rather bewildered and shocked, holding his stinging hand. An awkward silence fell between them. She had turned haughtily away from him, trying not to cry, but she felt his eyes on her, making her feel even more uncomfortable. Exasperated, she turned to him. 

"If you have nothing to say, then just…just _go away!"_ she snapped. 

"But…I do," he said softly. He no longer looked shocked, but his green eyes still reflected some confusion. "I…I wanted to say…" He swallowed. "I'm sorry." 

She looked at him, speechless. 

"I'm sorry," he repeated, miserably. "I didn't mean—I mean, I didn't know you…you were…you had no family." He was quiet for a moment, emerald eyes suddenly sad. 

"I don't really have a family, neither," he finally admitted. "My mum and dad were killed in an accident. That's what my aunt and uncle say, at least. I…never knew them. I've never seen them." He hung his head. "I guess…I can understand if you don't want to remember your family, or what happened to 'em. I didn't mean to pry." 

He looked finished, a small sense of relief flooding his eyes. She looked at him, eyes glassy. 

"You…" She hesitated for a moment. "You don't remember, neither?" 

He nodded, looking somewhat gloomy. "I don't remember my mum and dad. I…don't remember seeing them or anything." To her surprise, she saw his own eyes begin to fill, but he quickly tried to blink them away. She turned away, reddening, and hugged her arms to herself, pulling the coat he had wrapped around her tighter over her shivering body. _He doesn't remember…_

A silence fell again, but this time, it was comfortable. The gray clouds overhead had somewhat broken, revealing brief breaks of sunlight to enter. Glancing shortly over her shoulder, she realized that they were near the bridge again, and smiled for the first time that day, suddenly remembering something. Standing up, she began to walk toward the bridge, gesturing for the boy to follow her. Somewhat startled, he complied, and followed his partner to the apex of the bridge. The two then glanced below them. Two reflections stared back at them. The river was not very deep, and the bottom was quite distinguishable from above, various sizes of pebbles littering the river floor. 

"What are we doing?" the boy finally asked, after having squinted at his reflection for about two minutes. The girl put her finger to her lips, continuing to stare below. After another minute passed, she suddenly grabbed hold of her partner's arm, pointing excitedly below. 

"Look!" she whispered. The boy looked. A goldfish, rather large in size, swam gracefully through the clear water, tail spotted with black spots. The boy leaned forward, also gazing excitedly at the fish. It continued to swim, oblivious to its audience, and eventually disappeared in the distance. The girl was tugging at his sleeve. 

"Make a wish," she said gravely, her pale green eyes serious. The boy stared at her. 

"What?" 

"Make a wish!" she repeated. She looked at the pool, and once again met her reflection. "Make a wish—a wish so you can _remember_." 

The boy closed his eyes, and wished. The girl watched him, and slowly smiled after he opened his eyes. 

"Will it work?" he asked, in a hushed tone. She nodded seriously. 

"Of course it'll work. This river is _magic_." And the awe that reflected from her voice made the decision final. "It's a wishing river. I read it once somewhere." 

The boy looked at her serious face, then turned back to the river, gazing critically at his reflection. The gray clouds had now cleared considerably, and the sunlight made the river sparkle brilliantly. 

"Come on," the boy said finally. "We have to finish the tree." 

*** * * * * * * * **

They spent the rest of that afternoon in the park, underneath the same tree. Since they had left their unfinished trees back in the library, they decided to start new ones. The girl had finished first, and she spent the latter of the time staring at the river below her from the bridge while the boy slowly completed his own part of the project. Finally, just a quarter after four, the boy scribbled one last name on the paper, leaned back against the trunk, and smiled to himself wearily. The girl, who had sat next to him for the last five minutes while he finished, also smiled, but rather shyly. She picked up the paper on his lap and looked it over, nodding approvingly.

"You put in your mom and dad," she noted, pointing to the two names. The boy nodded faintly.

"Yeah."

She rested an elbow on her knee, chin on hand. "I thought you couldn't remember."

"I…don't," he admitted, turning to look at her from his position. Her pale green eyes shone with puzzlement, and he tried to suppress an amused smile. "But…even if I don't remember them, I know that I still have one. Everyone has a mum and dad, even if they don't remember them, right? Or else…or else, there would be no me. Right?"

The girl stared at him thoughtfully, taking a moment to think over the logic. Her eyes began to shine in a hopeful light.

"D'you think?" she began, and paused, biting her lip. "D'you think…_I've_ got a mum and dad, too?"

"'Course," was the prompt reply. "You're here, right?"  
  


  
  
The girl blinked, the new truth dawning on her. Seizing her pencil, she took her own paper and quickly began scribbling furiously, pausing once in a while to stare at it. The boy, curious, glanced over her shoulder to see what she was adding to her already finished tree. Finally, the girl finished scribbling, and held it out in front of her, cheeks red in embarrassment as he stared at it.

"You draw good," he finally said, a bit enviously, as his eyes continued to scan the paper. She flushed, holding her chin up proudly. He gestured to the smiling face beside her own.

"Who's that?"

"My _brother_," she promptly replied. "And there's my _mum_ and my _dad_." She looked immensely pleased with herself. The boy couldn't help but grin.

"I see." He continued to look through her paper, then pointed to the swirly decoration between her 'mum' and 'dad'. "What's that? It…it kinda looks like a snake. Do you have a pet snake?"

His partner stared at him, and he thought he saw a flicker of fear pass over her pale green irises. However, it passed so quickly, that he wasn't sure if he saw it at all. Instead, now he saw some of the coldness from before return.

"Yes," she said evenly.

"Oh." Not wanting to make her angry again, he refrained from saying anything else, instead returning the paper back to her. She took it, hand trembling slightly, and the boy squinted up at the darkening sky.

"It's getting late," he finally noted out loud, returning his gaze back at the girl. "I should be going." He stood up, and the girl followed. She handed her paper to him.

"Here. You can have it for the report."

The boy took the paper carefully, looking curiously at her. "Why do you want me to have it? Unless, you're afraid you might lose it—" He stopped himself, noticing the look in her eyes, and fell silent. The two became quiet for awhile, but it was a different kind of quiet. A kind of gloom hung heavily in the air between them, and coldness seemed to have settled in once again.

"Thanks for coming this afternoon to finish the project with me," he finally said, breaking the silence. He forced out a hesitant smile. "Maybe we can do it again."

"Maybe," the girl repeated distantly, messy red bangs hanging over her eyes. Not knowing what else to say to this, the boy just nodded in return, carefully placing the papers in his folder and positioning it snugly under his arm.

"I'll see at school…then…" he ended, voice fading.

The girl nodded, and he started walking away, but not before realizing something. The thought hit him so hard that he almost started laughing. Instead, suppressing the laugh, he turned back to his young partner, smiling broadly, sheepishly.

"I almost forgot," he said loudly, as he was now quite a distance away from her. "What's…what's your name?"

It was a stupid question, one that he should have thought to ask her before. Nevertheless, he saw that his question had startled her, and she was staring at him again with her peculiar, cold gaze.

"Ro," she finally said.

"Ro?" he repeated, making a face at the peculiar name. She gave him a look that warranted for no arguments, but he ignored it, and smiled.

"Ro," he said again, smiling faintly. "It was nice working with you. By the way…my name is Harry. Harry Potter."

"Harry," she said softly to herself, the pain in her head returning. He had not waited for a response from her—had learned, by now, that she wasn't the type to respond back—and had turned to walk toward home. She watched him disappear slowly in the distance, and she felt herself alone again. Alone, and cold. The pain in her head had dimmed, but was still throbbing dully behind her neck. She rubbed over the pained spot, wincing at the coldness of her own touch, and waited for him to come.

_My name is Harry. Harry Potter._

"I know," she whispered, and the wind suddenly became stronger, louder. Branches swayed gently above her, and a number of dead leaves raced past her, making circles around her small, bare ankles. And then, as the shadow came and covered her, she whispered again, feeling the icy coldness grip every part of her body.

_I know._


End file.
